


One Thing Is Working (If You're Standing There)

by ShowMeAHero



Series: Easy To Begin, But Hard To End [7]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Advice, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because they can't not bet on this one, Betting, Brotps, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Marriage Proposal, friendships, friendships galore, the cheesiest thing you will ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-05
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 06:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShowMeAHero/pseuds/ShowMeAHero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Enjolras and Grantaire had to have one thing in common, timing is not the worst thing it could have been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thing Is Working (If You're Standing There)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [robmcclanahan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robmcclanahan/gifts).



> I used these two ideas from imagineyourotp for a couple of base plot foundations: "Imagine your OTP going to a romantic restaurant for a night out. In both of their pockets are rings they are going to propose with, but the other has no idea. Imagine person B proposing first, and person A answering by pulling out their engagement ring." and "Imagine your OTP announcing that they’re engaged to their family and friends."
> 
> This a gift to strider17, because she found my Star Trek reference in "Butter Outta Cream" and therefore earned a part dedicated to what she wanted. She insisted that she wanted, and I quote, "Maybe something really cheesy like a proposal, or them getting married, or bringing home a baby or just something like that!" I have done something really, really cheesy, I can assure you.
> 
> The title is a lyric I stole from the song "Perfect For You" from the musical "Next To Normal".
> 
> This takes place towards the end of their senior year at university.  
> (April 17th, 2015)

“Hey, do you want to go out to dinner tonight? Maybe at le Jardin d'Olivier?” Grantaire asked, not even looking up at Enjolras as he spoke. He was sitting cross-legged in his usual armchair; in his lap, there was a sketchbook which he refused to let Enjolras see. He leaned back and looked up at Enjolras when no answer came. Enjolras turned away from the counter with a cup of black coffee and seemed to think while he took a long sip.

“Le Jardin d'Olivier? Sure, sure,” Enjolras agreed once he swallowed. Grantaire grinned and returned his attention to his sketchbook. Enjolras hesitated for a moment before sitting down at the kitchen table and pulling his cell phone out of the pocket of his pajama pants.

 ** _I’ll text you when Grantaire leaves. You’re coming over._** Enjolras typed out the message on his phone and sent it off to Courfeyrac, Marius (and Cosette), Jehan, and Combeferre. Grantaire stood up before too long, packing up his scattered drawings and tucking them all back into his sketchbook.

“I’m going to be at the Musain. I’ll see you later,” Grantaire said, stepping into the kitchen to say goodbye. Enjolras tipped his head up out of habit, and Grantaire leaned down to kiss him. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Enjolras replied absently, turning his attention back to his mug of coffee. He kept an eye on Grantaire - who wearing his red beanie, along with what Enjolras was about 99% sure were his Fairtrade shirt and his pajama pants (though that was only fair - he was wearing Grantaire’s college sweatshirt) - until he was definitely gone. Then he slid his phone back towards him and texted the same people, telling them it was okay to come over. He had just finished his first cup of coffee and was standing to refill his mug when the door opened, revealing Combeferre in an oversized sweater, a pair of grey sweatpants, and mismatched trainers.

“Hey, what’s up?” Combeferre asked, leaving the front door wide open behind him and vanishing into the pantry.

“Wait until the others get here, I don’t want to have to explain this five times,” Enjolras told him, pouring his new cup of black coffee.

“I don’t know how you can drink that crime against coffee.” Combeferre reappeared from the pantry with a package of Oreos.

“You don’t give Grantaire any shit, and he drinks it more than I do,” Enjolras argued. Combeferre shrugged as he sat down across from Enjolras at the kitchen table. He peeled back the top of the package and slid the box to the middle. Enjolras raised an eyebrow, but he took two cookies anyways.

“He’s allowed to drink the monstrosity that is black coffee, because he doesn’t drink anything else when he does,” Combeferre reminded him. Enjolras nodded once and took a sip.

“Understood,” Enjolras said around his mouthful of coffee. He and Combeferre both looked up at the door as Cosette entered, dragging a tired-looking Marius behind her. She was wearing one of Marius’ pajama shirts, a pair of her own jeans, and slippers; Marius had on trainers and the pajama pants that matched the top Cosette was wearing, but he was missing a shirt. Combeferre scowled.

“Clothe yourself, man,” Combeferre instructed, waving a hand at him and averting his eyes. Marius barely looked at him.

“Too early. Why am I here?” Marius grumbled, falling onto the sofa and yawning. Cosette rolled her eyes and joined Combeferre and Enjolras at the kitchen table.

“Good morning!” Jehan cheered enthusiastically, practically skipping through the open door of the flat. He was clad in bright floral pants, rain boots, and a giant red sweater that was definitely either Enjolras’ or Courfeyrac’s. His thick hair was pulled into a loose braid, and there were small flowers tucked into the plait. He also had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Snuggie on backwards.

“Nothing is good about it,” Marius mumbled from the couch. Courfeyrac dragged himself in after Jehan, shutting the door behind him before collapsing on top of Marius on the sofa.

“Amen,” Courfeyrac said, his voice muffled by Marius’ shoulder. Jehan rolled his eyes and hopped up on the kitchen counter.

“What’s up?” Jehan asked, taking the cookies offered to him by Cosette.

“Wait here a minute,” Enjolras said, taking a last sip of his coffee before getting up and disappearing into his room down the hall. He reappeared moments later with a small box that he placed in the middle of the kitchen table without a word. There was complete silence in the room as he took his seat again, folded his arms against his chest, and leaned back in his chair. Courfeyrac’s head popped up over the back of the sofa, his eyes closed.

“What’s going on?” Courfeyrac asked tiredly. He slid to a sitting position on Marius’ legs, allowing Marius to sit up, as well. The two of them looked blearily in the direction of the kitchen.

“You’re going to propose to Grantaire?” Cosette squealed, reaching out and grabbing the box. Jehan leaned forward so that he could see the ring, too; both he and Cosette sighed when they saw it.

“It’s beautiful!” Jehan exclaimed, sliding off the counter and snatching the box from Cosette’s hands.

“It’s a family heirloom,” Enjolras explained, watching as Jehan and Cosette fawned over the ring. Combeferre leaned over and smiled.

“It’s lovely. He’ll have to say yes with this,” Combeferre assured him, passing a cookie to Enjolras. Marius and Courfeyrac stumbled over and leaned over Jehan’s shoulder to see the ring.

“You are proposing to Grantaire, right?” Marius asked. Courfeyrac grinned.

“Or are you proposing to France herself?” Courfeyrac teased. Enjolras rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Enjolras and France have been married for years,” Combeferre laughed. Enjolras reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“How are you going to do it?” Cosette asked, interrupting the boys’ joking. Enjolras sat forward in his seat and rested his arms on the table.

“That’s why you’re here,” Enjolras told them. He accepted the ring when Jehan passed it to him and kept his eyes focused on it as he spoke. “He said he wanted to go to dinner tonight. I want to do it then.”

“Well, where are you going?” Courfeyrac asked. The four boys, and Cosette, turned towards Enjolras expectantly.

“Le Jardin d'Olivier,” Enjolras told them. Combeferre whistled.

“Fancy,” Combeferre commented. Cosette nodded.

“But what do I _do_? I have to say something to him.” Enjolras furrowed his brow and rubbed at his temple. Courfeyrac shrugged.

“You could always just throw the ring at him and hope for the best,” Courfeyrac suggested. Enjolras looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Really, Courfeyrac?” Enjolras asked sarcastically. Courfeyrac took it literally.

“No, not really, Enjolras. Of _course_ you have to use words,” Courfeyrac scoffed. He looked over at Cosette. “Well?”

“Well what?” Cosette looked surprised at having been addressed directly.

“You’re the girl. Help.” Courfeyrac popped an Oreo in his mouth and motioned to Cosette with his hand. “What’s he got to do?”

Cosette fiddled with her hands. “It’s gotta be romantic. Marius made it romantic for me.” Cosette smiled warmly at Marius, who leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

Courfeyrac stared blankly at them for a moment before he snapped out of it and turned to Jehan. “Poet. Romance,” Courfeyrac swirled his hand in the air. “Create.”

“I’m not here for your own personal use, you know. I’m a person, too,” Jehan grumbled, playing with the edge of his Snuggie’s right sleeve. Courfeyrac came up behind Jehan, wrapped his hands around the poet’s waist, and buried his face in the poet’s neck.

“Will you please tell him something romantic to say?” Courfeyrac asked politely, his voice quiet against Jehan’s skin. The small man sighed and turned his head to look at Enjolras. Courfeyrac just continued to absently kiss at Jehan’s neck.

“You can’t go wrong with just telling him how much you love him, you know. Just, look in your heart. That’s my best advice,” Jehan said, trying to ignore Courfeyrac. “You’re a wonderful speaker, Enjolras, you know that. Don’t psych yourself out.”

“How long have you been planning this?” Cosette asked curiously. She put her elbow on the table and her chin on the heel of her hand, tipping her head into her palm as she looked at Enjolras. Marius started threading his fingers through her blonde hair absently.

“Not too long. Few months.” Enjolras snapped the ring box shut and looked up. “So, I just, what, speak in the moment?”

“Exactly!” Jehan leaned forward slightly; Courfeyrac followed, almost asleep against Jehan. “It’s going to be phenomenal. He’ll definitely say yes.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Marius said, grinning widely at Enjolras. The blonde looked down at the ring box in his hands. Combeferre groaned suddenly and glared at Enjolras.

“You’re just going to create a whole family of black-coffee-drinking heathens!” Combeferre threw his hands up in the air. “We can’t let this happen!” Cosette flicked the side of Combeferre’s head, and Enjolras stood.

“I’m going to shower,” Enjolras said, his voice a little hesitant. He rubbed his fingers over the velvet of the box.

“Then we can go to lunch,” Jehan promised. Enjolras seemed to relax slightly.

“Alright,” Enjolras agreed easily, vanishing down the hallway. As soon as he was out of sight, Combeferre groaned again and let his head smack against the table.

“I’m going to lose!” Combeferre moaned. Cosette rubbed his back.

“Yes, but I am going to win,” Cosette replied smugly. Combeferre just made an exasperated noise against the paint-splattered tabletop.

* * *

When Grantaire finally reached the Musain, he discovered that Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, Joly, and Bossuet were already seated upstairs at a table in their usual section. Eponine was wearing what appeared to be a black college sweatshirt and a pair of matching sweatpants; Bahorel and Feuilly were both wearing onesie pajamas; Joly and Bossuet were wearing two pairs of pajamas, though Joly was wearing the pants of one set and the shirt of another, and Bossuet had the opposite matching pieces on. Grantaire approached them as they were all quietly watching Feuilly fold a very intricate fan out of floral paper. Nobody noticed him until he dragged a chair over to their table and fell into it.

“Hey, you’re here,” Eponine said, leaning over and kissing Grantaire on the cheek. The boys all looked over and grinned at him at once, Feuilly’s fan long forgotten.

“What’s up?” Bahorel asked, rubbing absently at his eyes. “It’s _early_.”

Grantaire accepted the mug of coffee that Joly passed him, smiling at Bossuet, who had his head resting on Joly’s shoulder sleepily. “I’m going to propose to Enjolras tonight.”

“Holy shit!” Feuilly exclaimed loudly; his hands slipped, and he ripped his fan. He sighed and looked down at the two pieces of torn paper in his hands sadly.

“You’re really going to do it?” Joly asked at the same time Bossuet laughed and said, “It’s about damn time!” Grantaire grinned at them, put his mug down on the table, and pulled the ring box out of the pocket of his pajama pants. He passed it off to Eponine, who jerked it open and smiled immediately.

“Good job, man,” Eponine assured him. Feuilly and Bahorel nearly fell over each other trying to see the ring, and both of them made happy noises when they saw it.

“That’s lovely!” Feuilly exclaimed. Bahorel nodded vigorously in agreement.

“It’s perfect,” Bahorel told him. Joly took the box from Eponine and held it out in front of himself and Bossuet.

“Nicely done,” Joly grinned. Bossuet tipped his head closer to Joly’s and smiled just as widely.

“Very nicely done,” Bossuet agreed. Grantaire nodded once and took the box back.

“I wanted to give him something special, a family thing or something.” Grantaire looked down at the ring nestled inside the box. “My family wasn’t exactly the heirloom type, though. So I’ve been selling art to make the extra money.”

“It paid off, I’m telling you.” Eponine reached out and took Grantaire’s hand. “Why did you tell us to meet you here?”

“Well, you know Enjolras. I want to do this right,” Grantaire answered. No further explanation was needed; they all nodded understandingly, save for Bossuet.

“He’ll say yes. It’s you,” Bossuet said. Joly reached up and started running his hand through Bossuet’s hair.

“It is you. He has a soft spot for you,” Joly agreed. Feuilly perked up all of a sudden.

“You could draw him something!” Feuilly suggested excitedly. Eponine clapped her hands together happily.

“Draw him!” Eponine added.

Bahorel rolled his eyes. “What do you think he’s constantly drawing? Look through his sketchbook, it’s all his divine Apollo.”

“Oh, Apollo, how I worship thee!” Bossuet exclaimed in a poor imitation of Grantaire’s voice, distracting Joly while the medical student stole Grantaire’s sketchbook. He began flipping through it, and it only took him a moment before he laughed.

“Bahorel, you’re right! It’s all Enjolras!” Joly lifted one out in particular and held it up.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” Eponine sighed. Feuilly leaned over and plucked a drawing out of the sketchbook and held that one up, as well. The boys immediately all groaned and looked away; Eponine looked at it curiously.

“That is _filthy_ ,” Bossuet groaned. Grantaire snatched the drawings from Feuilly and Joly, shoving them all back together.

“I didn’t expect you to look at them,” Grantaire said, though he did not sound at all ashamed; he sounded prouder than anything. “So, what, I’ll draw him something?”

“Or just give him that,” Eponine suggested, motioning towards the sketchbook. “If that’s not proof of your love, I don’t know what is.”

“A speech won’t impress Enjolras. He is the master of speeches... and words as a whole,” Bahorel added. Grantaire nodded, then snapped the ring box and shoved it back into his pocket.

“So where are you doing this?” Eponine asked curiously. Grantaire leaned back in his chair and fiddled with the drawings in his sketchbook.

“Le Jardin d'Olivier. Tonight,” Grantaire told them.

“That’s going to be fantastic!” Feuilly cheered. Grantaire grinned widely at them and chugged his coffee in one go.

* * *

 At eight o’clock that night, Grantaire slipped his shoes on by the door, straightened his tie, and left their flat. Enjolras looked up curiously from his armchair, and was even more confused when a knock came at the door. He stood, flattened his lapels with his hands, and answered the door, unsurprised to find Grantaire there.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked, but Grantaire shushed him.

“I am taking you on a date." Grantaire reached past Enjolras and lifted his coat from the coat rack beside the door. “Come along, we’re taking my motorcycle.”

Enjolras smiled and grabbed his own coat before following Grantaire out of the flat and down the stairs to the small parking lot. Grantaire paused beside his motorcycle, leaning against it and looking Enjolras over for a moment.

“You look good tonight,” Grantaire commented. Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” Enjolras said back. They stood there for a moment, two well-dressed men standing in a small parking lot. Enjolras motioned to the motorcycle after a little bit of silence. “Shall we?”

Grantaire bowed his head. “We shall. I’m driving.”

“Good,” Enjolras murmured, climbing on the motorcycle after Grantaire, wrapping his arms around the artist’s waist and burying his face safely between his shoulder blades. The ride was short and exhilarating; Enjolras could feel Grantaire laugh against the wind every now and then. They arrived at le Jardin d'Olivier in what must have been record time, but Enjolras ignored the speed; his heart was going too quickly, and he was unused to the nerves. He was normally quite collected, and to be thrown off-kilter by something so simple as a marriage proposal-

Enjolras’ mind kind of stuttered around “marriage proposal”. Grantaire snapped him out of it when the motorcycle jerked to a stop. He slid off the motorcycle and offered his hand to Grantaire, who took it and managed to steady the motorcycle all at once.

“You have a great mind,” Enjolras murmured, wrapping an arm around Grantaire’s waist and kissing his temple. Grantaire twisted around to look up at him curiously.

“Are you feeling alright?” Grantaire asked. He reached up and touched the back of his hand to Enjolras’ forehead; the blonde swatted him away.

“I’m feeling fine. I don’t need an excuse to compliment you,” Enjolras grumbled. Grantaire half-shrugged.

“Most people don’t. You kind of do.” Grantaire leaned up and kissed Enjolras briefly before tugging him towards the restaurant. “Come on, I made reservations.”

Enjolras allowed himself to be pulled towards the restaurant but, once they were inside, he remained by Grantaire’s side rather than a step behind or in front of him. Grantaire seemed pleased and completely at ease. Enjolras envied him.

They had just ordered salad and water when Grantaire suddenly sat forward. Enjolras had been somewhat distracted by their environment; they had been seated outside, since the weather was relatively warm, and there were a great many ivy-covered iron fences surrounding the outside tables. Twinkling lights were strung from every surface, and they accented the clear night sky nicely. His attention was brought back to Grantaire with the artist’s sudden movement.

Grantaire’s hands - which were, apparently, in a constant state of being smudged with paint or charcoal, despite his best efforts - found Enjolras’ on the table. He tapped a beat out on Enjolras’ hand before he finally spoke.

“I love you,” Grantaire said finally. His voice was more even and calm than Enjolras felt. He would have to do it now, soon, any moment now.

“I love you, too,” Enjolras answered. Grantaire pulled his hands free and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket; his hands resurfaced with a folded piece of paper, which he handed over to Enjolras. The blonde took the paper and unfolded it curiously. The paper held a vivid charcoal drawing of Enjolras. “Oh, it’s lovely.”

“I’ve got plenty more at home. I was going to give them all to you now, but there are some that should not be viewed in mixed company,” Grantaire explained. Enjolras raised an eyebrow, and Grantaire just chuckled. “That’s how I see you, you know. Beautiful, godlike, perfect.”

“I’m far from all that, I assure you,” Enjolras said absently as he studied the drawing in his hands. He thought the loveliest part was Grantaire’s messy flourish of a signature in the bottom left corner, but he might be slightly biased. Grantaire ran a hand through his own dark hair and shifted in his chair. Enjolras looked up at him curiously just as Grantaire moved to kneel on one knee on the floor. Enjolras’ heart immediately stopped.

Grantaire fiddled with the pocket in the inner lining of his jacket for a moment before pulling out a ring box and presenting it to Enjolras. “I’m not good with words, not like you. But I love you. So, will you marry me?”

Enjolras was absolutely silent, along with everyone else outside, and along with Grantaire, as well. The silence broke when Enjolras reacted without thinking by kneeling on one knee in front of Grantaire, pulling the ring box out of his own pants pocket and holding it out to Grantaire. Grantaire immediately laughed and let his head fall against Enjolras’ shoulder.

“I can’t...” Grantaire laughed again. “Figures, doesn’t it?”

“It definitely does,” Enjolras agreed, shifting so that he could slide the ring he had brought onto Grantaire’s finger. Grantaire leaned back slightly and tried to ignore the eyes on them.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then?” Grantaire asked, grinning wildly. Enjolras nodded and let Grantaire do with his ring what Enjolras had just done. Grantaire looked down at Enjolras’ hand for an extended moment before he surged forward and kissed Enjolras fiercely. He gripped Enjolras’ hair tightly in his hands and tried to hold them as close together as he possibly could. Enjolras, for once, let him do it, right there in the restaurant.

“I had a speech,” Enjolras said once they separated. Grantaire looked unphased.

“Tell it to me anyways, later. Tonight. When we get home.” Grantaire stood and helped Enjolras off the floor and back into his seat.

* * *

 

Eponine arrived at Enjolras and Grantaire’s apartment to find all of her friends, minus Enjolras and Grantaire, seated in the living room. There was no talking, no television, no noise of any sort. Cosette, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, and Bossuet all sat on one side of the living room; Combeferre, Marius, Bahorel, Marius, and Jehan all sat on the other. Just like Eponine, they were all dressed in their pajamas. She raised an eyebrow as she shut the door behind her.

“Why’s there a stand-off going on in here?” Eponine asked. She looked towards the side of the room that housed Courfeyrac. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Courfeyrac said suspiciously. Eponine moved to sit beside Cosette on the floor.

“Enjolras told them he was going to propose tonight,” Bossuet explained. Eponine’s eyes widened.

“But... Grantaire-” Eponine began. Combeferre cut her off.

“Exactly. So, when they get back, they tell us who proposed first, and we’ll see who wins.” Combeferre shot a dirty look at Feuilly, who shot the same look right back.

“There’s no way Grantaire did it first! Enjolras is too ready for this, he probably prepared. Grantaire didn’t really,” Bossuet argued. Clearly, this was a rehash of an earlier argument that Eponine had missed, because Marius threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

“Grantaire is a more of the spur-of-the-moment guy. They probably didn’t even make it to the actual dinner,” Marius countered. Eponine rolled her eyes.

“Enjolras was definitely first,” Eponine stated simply. Feuilly looked worried.

“I don’t want to lose fifty dollars,” Feuilly whispered to Courfeyrac. He just patted Feuilly’s hand comfortingly. All the heads in the room shot to the door when it opened. Grantaire entered first, and, upon, seeing the group of people in his living room, groaned loudly.

“For the love of God, when are you all _not_ here?!” Grantaire shouted, throwing his coat at Marius’ face. Enjolras came in behind him, his face flushed and his hair wild with wind, just like Grantaire’s.

“Who proposed first?” Cosette demanded. All the faces in the room were eagerly turned towards the couple, who looked at each other for a moment before Grantaire returned his attention back to the group.

“Technically, I guess I did,” Grantaire informed them. One side of the room started cheering and high-fiving each other while the other side grumbled and began offering up money to the winners. Enjolras kicked the front door open all the way and stepped aside.

“I’ll deal with you all and your gambling addictions tomorrow. Right now, you’re going to want to leave.” Enjolras motioned towards the door and, when no one moved, he spoke again. “ _Now_.”

That one word was enough encouragement to evacuate the living room of their distressed friends; the ten of them emptied into the hallway, and Enjolras shut the door in their curious, frustrated faces just as Grantaire jumped on his back.

“Tell me your speech.” Grantaire insisted in a low voice. Enjolras waited until Grantaire had slid off his back before he turned around.

“Well, first of all, I love you.” Enjolras moved to pull Grantaire’s jacket off slowly. “I love you more than I love anything else. I never thought I could love a person more than I love my rights, my freedoms, my country, but you make all that seem worthwhile in the first place. It’s like I was dimly-lit, and you were fresh light that brightened everything I stood for.” Enjolras tossed the jacket aside and pulled Grantaire’s tie off, as well. Grantaire just stared at him as he spoke. “I never want to be in the dark again. Do you understand that?”

“I do.” Grantaire ignored Enjolras’ hands on him, his shirt half-unbuttoned when he moved forward to kiss Enjolras wildly. He slipped away for a moment to aim a kick at the door; the thud was met with exclamations of surprise from the other side. “Go away!”

The sound of footsteps moving away from their flat came after a moment, and Grantaire returned his attention fully to Enjolras, who, for once, seemed thoroughly distracted from what he had been saying.

“I don’t remember the rest right now,” Enjolras said, somewhat surprised at himself. Grantaire laughed.

“I trust that you will later,” Grantaire assured him, attacking the blonde yet again and dragging him towards their bedroom. They soon discovered that the room was covered in flowers, courtesy of Jehan, as they learned from a little note left on their dresser. Grantaire laughed as he stuck a small, ruby red flower in Enjolras’ tangled curls of hair, and Enjolras wanted to hear that sound for the rest of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I just realized I try to write this as though they are in Europe, but I keep using "dollars". Whoops. I'm American, guys, sorry.
> 
> Also, yes, "le Jardin d'Olivier" means "The Olive Garden" in French. I don't know/go to many fancy restaurants. Do not laugh at me.
> 
> Yes, I understand that this was ridiculously cheesy and shamefully fluffy. I'm not even sorry, though.
> 
> Your own personal headcanons for the rings are acceptable. I know everyone has separate things like that for themselves; in my mind, they're both gold bands (traditional guy thing), but the one given to Grantaire by Enjolras has a couple of red jewels set into it (old family heirloom and all), and the one given to Enjolras by Grantaire has no jewels, but it does have an engraving inside that says "vis pour l'amour", which means "live for love".
> 
> Any mistakes will be shamefully discovered and changed later, I can assure you.
> 
> You can follow me on Twitter at [@nicoIodeon](https://twitter.com/nicoIodeon) or on Tumblr at [andillwriteyouatragedy](http://andillwriteyouatragedy.tumblr.com/).


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